Luke 22:42Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

16:23.) so as even after many commendations, to call him Satan, how should He be unwilling to be crucified? Consider then why it was so said. How great a thing was it to hear that the unspeakable God, who passes all understanding, was content to enter the virgin’s womb, to suck her milk, and to undergo every thing human. Since then that was almost incredible which was about to happen, He sent first indeed Prophets to announce it, afterwards He Himself comes clothed in the flesh, so that you could not suppose Him to be a phantom. He permits His flesh to endure all natural infirmities, to hunger, to thirst, to sleep, to labour, to be afflicted, to be tormented; on this account likewise He refuses not death, that He might manifest thereby His true humanity.

And thus He who bore our sicknesses and interceded for us, bent His knee in prayer, by reason of the man which He assumed, giving us an example, that we ought not to exalt ourselves at the time of prayer, but in all things be conformed to humility; for God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. (James 4:6, 1 Pet. 5:5.)

"If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me." He alone spoke to the Father, understanding fully that while there was a possibility for the cup to be removed, His purpose was to partake of it for the sake of all, fulfilling the payment of debts that neither the prophets nor the saviors could settle through their deaths. "Father, let this cup pass from Me." He who foretold His death through His prophets and patterned the mystery of His sacrifice on righteous men could not, when His own time came, shun death or decline to drink from the cup He must bear. For had He wished to avoid it or reject it, He would not have equated His body to a temple, stating, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up" (John 2:19), nor would He have asked the sons of Zebedee, "Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?" (Matthew 20:22). Elsewhere, He said, "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!" (Luke 12:50) and, "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up" (John 3:14). He also declared, "For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth" (Matthew 12:40), stating, "The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected" (Luke 9:22), and, "With great desire I have longed to eat this Passover with you before I suffer" (Luke 22:15). "The Son of Man goes as it is written of Him" (Matthew 26:24). Even on that fateful evening when He surrendered Himself, He shared His body with His apostles and poured out His blood for His disciples, instructing them to partake in remembrance of His suffering.

He, who instructed His disciples not to fear death, saying, "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul" (Matthew 10:28), how could He Himself dread death and plead for the cup to be taken from Him? He who willingly embraced a life of months in the womb and years on Earth—did He want His cup to bypass Him and all His manifestations to be in vain when only a few hours remained? While in Jerusalem, delivering His call, He remarked, wishing to reveal the vastness of His grace: "If the miracles done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day" (Matthew 11:23). However, Sodom faced destruction, even though it might have been spared due to His coming. Despite this, He did not rescind the timing of His manifestation; how then did He seek to forfeit the blessings that would arise from His suffering, which, had they occurred in Lot’s day, might have allowed Sodom and neighboring cities to thrive? Should He have sacrificed the cup for the sake of His people to avoid their demise at His second coming—acting as the agent of His own death—then according to that reasoning, any nation He visited would have delivered Him to death upon the cross. Yet, since they (the Jews) disregarded His miracles, they did not perish solely due to His crucifixion; they had perished even before His execution for their refusal to believe in His signs. "If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me." He expressed this due to the human frailty with which He was clothed, for He truly took on our nature without pretense. Given His authentic weakness, fear and distress over it were inevitable as He embraced flesh. Sustained in hunger by bread, weary from toil, appearing powerless in sleep, He manifested both the confounding sense of death in His own nature as well as the reality of being the son of Adam, over whom, as the apostle notes, death reigned (Romans 5:14). "And He said to His disciples, 'Watch and pray, lest you fall into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak'" (Matthew 26:41). If it is not your spirit that afflicts you when you are afraid, but the frailty of your flesh, how could I have feared death, unless it was to demonstrate the fear of death that burdens the flesh I wear? For if Simon, led to fear by a servant girl (Matthew 26:69), did not tremble at the sight of the Romans—seeking to have his head turned in shame while requesting crucifixion—how could the Lord, who empowered the apostles to disregard death, according to His declaration, “Fear not those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul” (Matthew 10:28), how could He Himself exhibit fear in the face of death? It would be unfitting for Him to experience such dread; if fear were warranted, it should have been at the time of His arrest, not before, for then He healed the ear of the aggressor (Luke 22:51). He permitted the sword to be drawn, and when the moment arose for its use, He commanded, “Put your sword back in its place” (Matthew 26:52).

In further contemplation, it becomes evident why Christ prayed, "Not my will, but Yours be done." Since through the Son, the debts owed were absolved, and through Him the way was opened for the nations to turn back to God, He did not claim the grace that existed before the foundation of the world. From the onset, although everything was created through Him, He remained humble, as evidenced in Moses' words, "And God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good" (Genesis 1:31); this was so that all creation would become indebted to the Father. Similarly, at the hour of restoration, He willingly renounced all, saying, "Your will be done," that those redeemed by the death of the Only Begotten might owe their existence to the Father. Or perhaps He uttered this to surrender the body to what belongs to the body. It was evident that all His tribulations served as a testament to His physical reality, so its truth might be seen. Nevertheless, the heretics who examined these signs of His flesh failed to be convinced. Just as He experienced hunger, thirst, fatigue, and sleep, so too did He experience fear. Was He not made to endure such feelings, so that it would not be asserted that apart from suffering and effort, our transgressions are atoned for? Or was it to teach His disciples to entrust their lives and deaths to God's will? If He, in His wisdom, knelt to pray for what was to come, how much more ought those of weaker faith yield their wills to the All-Knowing One? Additionally, in order for His suffering to provide comfort to His disciples, He adapted to their understanding, portraying the weight of their fears upon Himself, setting the example that before death, they should not succumb to useless anxiety. If He, who could not fear, did in fact express fear and sought deliverance, even knowing it was not possible, how much more should others pray before facing temptation to be spared from it? Furthermore, when faced with temptation, when thoughts tend to roam aimlessly, He prayed to instruct us on the necessity of prayer against the schemes of evil, suggesting that earnest prayers help to center scattered thoughts. Moreover, in desiring to bolster those afraid of death, He demonstrated that He too experienced fear, so as to convey to them that being overwhelmed by fear would not lead to destruction, unless they became entrenched in it. This truth was encapsulated in His plea, “Not my will, Father, but Yours be done,” stating I will die to save many. Or, perhaps, to triumph over death itself. Or to openly exhibit fear of suffering so that death might not only resolve to engulf Him but hasten to release Him. To conquer death, all this transpired, which is found in You, O Lord, concealed within it. Your Divinity remained untouched by death; it could not encroach upon Your deep mysteries. Though the existence of Your Godhead was declared, for a season You veiled it as if beneath a garment, masking Your Divine identity with the name of man. For those who bore only the mark of the first Adam found their bodies became fodder for death, while those who take on the mark of the second Adam reign over and conquer it. That first Adam, by partaking, surrendered his will to the flesh, undermining and destroying the body, rendering it food for death; while the second Adam, through His firm will, fortified the body, delivering it from the clutches of death. "Not my will, but Yours," by these words He positioned Himself in opposition to Adam, who rejected the Creator’s will and heeded the enemy’s voice, thereby falling into the grasp of his adversary. But the Lord dismissed the desires of the flesh to uphold the will of the One who fashioned it, recognizing that all happiness is rooted in the will of His Father. "Not My will be done, but Yours." Did He possess the intent contrary to that of His Father? Why then did He state, "Not my will be done, but Yours"? In another context, He affirmed, "I came not to do My will, but the will of Him who sent Me" (John 6:38). Yet the will of the Father is, "Of those whom You gave Me, I have lost none" (John 18:9). Clearly, His desire diverges from that of the Father. Isaiah proclaimed, "It was the Lord's will to crush Him and cause Him to suffer" (Isaiah 53:10), and further states, "He bore the sin of many" (Isaiah 53:12), revealing that this was indeed His will. How are these to be reconciled? For they highlight two wills: one belonging to the Lord, and the other His, while the actions converge into one purpose. When the Lord aimed to assure His audience of His sovereign authority, it may have appeared to some that He held an opposing will. St. Ephrem illustrates that Christ did not possess a will that opposed the Father’s. Likewise, before Lazarus' tomb, He exclaimed, "I thank You, Father, that You have heard Me. I knew that You always hear Me; but I said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, that they may believe that You sent Me" (John 11:41-42)—this in service to the people’s faith in His divine origin. The same understanding can be applied to all His profound declarations. To demonstrate His unity with the Father, He attributed and credited all acts to Him, while for the honor of His Father, He represented Himself as in need of these things, even though He accomplished them entirely of His own volition. There existed no necessity compelling the Lord to embrace humiliation, thus shaming those who claimed He succumbed to the dominion of darkness. Indeed, the forces of darkness shouted loudly, declaring, "You are the Son of God" (Mark 3:11), and pleaded with Him not to consign them to the abyss. How could those who sought to evade Gehenna prevail over Him?

Yet, as He returned to His awareness, He declared, in both the voice of God and the Son of God, what He hesitantly rejected as a human: “Nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou wilt,” meaning not as I express it based on human desire, but according to the divine purpose for which I descended from heaven to earth by Thy will.

Therefore He seeks that the perfect will of His Father which He Himself had known, should dispose of the event, which is the same will as His own, as respects the Divine nature. But He shrinks to fulfil the human will, which He calls His own, and which is inferior to His Father’s will.

As the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world (Revelation 13:8), the Son of God accepted the mission of redeeming humanity within the eternal purpose, which He could not relinquish in time. St. Leo of Rome asserts that we should not presume the Lord Jesus sought to evade suffering and death. The unified will of both the Father and the Son was to liberate humankind through the crucifixion, and what was graciously established before the ages cannot be undone.

What does the prayer "If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me" truly convey? Who lifts this prayer? It is the Son of Man, weighed down by sorrow, praying through His sacred humanity that shares in both divine and human emotions. He experiences genuine feelings, including hunger and thirst, not feigned. Now, crushed by the burden of grief, He seeks from His heavenly Father that the full measure of torment may be taken away from Him; however, He submits entirely to His Father's will. His humanity, exhausted by suffering and despairing for itself, seeks relief from the intolerable challenge—all contingent on God's will. If it were not against divine purpose, He would completely yield His frail humanity’s will to that of God. Here, He markedly delineates His human will from His divine will in a way previously unexpressed, affirming: "not as I will, according to my human inclination, but according to Your will, O Son of God."

However, He would die as though a sinner, laden with the sins of all, subjected to the full measure of divine justice's fury, thus feeling utterly abandoned by Divine assistance. In those moments, He must have felt forsaken by God, marking a swift alteration in His inner state. This turmoil had already begun to surface earlier (John 12:27) and at the Last Supper (13:21). A deep gloom enveloped the soul of the purest of the righteous. He distanced Himself from His disciples, retreating once more into prayer. His supplication was so fervent that His sweat transformed into drops of blood. In this moment, the Son's hidden sacrifice to the Father reached fulfillment—an offering that was to be made manifest before all. Through prayer, He surrendered entirely to the Father's will, and what His soul feared had now become an unavoidable pathway of obedience. To offer solace to the Son of Man, an angel appeared. Meanwhile, His disciples succumbed to slumber; He returned to them thrice, urging them to remain vigilant in prayer, reminding them that while the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak—therefore, divine aid is essential to resist temptation.

The apostles were unable to hear the continuation of His prayer due to their exhaustion, which led them to fall asleep.

Jesus had spoken to the apostles numerous times about the inevitability of His suffering and death, recognizing their necessity and even desiring their swift fulfillment. He compared the anguish of His impending death to a deadly chalice, and referred to His crucifixion as His baptism. He asked the sons of Zebedee, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” (Mark 10:38). On another occasion, He expressed, “I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how distressed I am until it is accomplished!” (Luke 12:50).

What is the significance of the dread that overtook Jesus during His hour of trial? What are we to make of His sorrow and mortal longing? Did He have any doubts about His decision to sacrifice Himself? No, He did not waver. When He submitted His will to the Father’s purpose, He swiftly declared, “Not as I will, but as You will.” If He fully surrendered to His Father’s will and was aware of it, why did He plead to be spared from the suffering? Why did He recoil from the anguish of death? Would it not have been preferable for Him to face death like His followers, without fear and perhaps even with joy? But can we claim that Jesus was seized with terror, grief, and longing out of apprehension for the tortures that lay ahead? After this moment in Gethsemane, we see Him silently endure the insults, tortures, and excruciating execution without any cries or shudders, as His divine essence did not diminish the severity of His suffering, as evident in His final agonized cry: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Mark 15:34). Thus, His troubled state did not stem from the anticipated torment but from a deeper inner struggle.

We must remember that Jesus experienced temptation as a man. Before embarking on His ministry, while preparing to fulfill the will of His Father, He faced the devil's temptations, who urged Him to pursue His mission by a different path—one of worldly glory free from suffering and failure. Jesus withstood these temptations and continued on a path leading to His painful culmination—a torturous death. It is natural that, in His vulnerable moment, the tempter would renew his assaults. Although the Gospel writers do not explicitly mention temptations in the Garden of Gethsemane, their silence does not imply a lack of struggle; they simply could not perceive it, having only learned about the earlier wilderness temptation from Christ Himself.

In the garden, the devil could have reminded Jesus of previous offers and temptations regarding earthly kingdoms, emphasizing the ingratitude of those He had enriched and the misfortunes of His imminent demise. He might have spoken, “Do you recall how, three and a half years ago, I suggested you present Yourself to Israel with the glory they desired, promising you their allegiance? You didn't believe me then; you thought I was attempting to lead you astray. What has your chosen path brought you? The very people who once marveled at Your miracles now abandon You, and the leaders have condemned You as a false messiah. Only one of your twelve remains faithful, yet even he betrays You! What fate awaits you but execution, alone and despised?”

However, Jesus peacefully rejected any temptation, exhibiting the same unwavering devotion to His Father's will as He did in the wilderness, where He declared, “You shall worship the Lord your God and Him only shall you serve” (Matthew 4:10). The devil fled from Him once again. Yet, the stark reality of the path that lay ahead weighed heavily upon His heart. The cup that the Divine Sufferer beheld was filled with profound moral turmoil! His torment was not driven by fear of physical pain but rather the suffering of a soul burdened by the weight of humanity’s sins.

By the time Christ arrived on earth, the pagan world had become engrossed in false gods, unable to grasp the true God, while the Jewish people, though proud of their knowledge of Him, had distorted His law, harboring the same selfish desires as pagans. They too, in their pride, failed to recognize the divine truth that Christ brought. Much like those who resist the light after long dwelling in darkness, both Jewish and pagan societies pushed back against the message of sacrificial love. Confronted by these mounting adversities, Christ chose to endure the collective sins of the world rather than respond with hostility. He understood that to establish God’s Kingdom, a transformation of the human heart was essential, a work that could not be forced.

The embodiment of perfect love, Jesus reached out to sinners, met with them in compassion, healed their illnesses, and demonstrated divine miracles. He sought no earthly accolades; His consolation came from igniting love within others. Yet it distressed Him deeply to witness how quickly those who wished to crown Him King turned away upon realizing His kingdom was not of this world. He felt profound sorrow seeing the treachery of one close disciple and the betrayal by the very leaders of His people.

As He entered Gethsemane, the burden of a world intent on rejecting His loving sacrifice overshadowed Him, further intensified by the knowledge that His chosen ones would fall short. Faced with inevitable abandonment, their cowardice struck His heart. Though He was ready to embrace the spiritual anguish for the world, He questioned whether His death was truly essential. If there existed an alternate means to fulfill salvation, might it be that God would allow this cup to pass from Him? “Abba Father, all things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me,” He begged (Mark 14:36). In that moment, no response came.

While it may appear that His human nature dominates initially, it is vital to recognize that this was the peak of Christ's profound self-abasement, as 'He humbled Himself and became obedient even unto death,' wholly surrendering to the Father as the representative of a fallen humanity. The very capacity to undertake this, along with His close communion with the Father regarding will and counsel, and the ultimate victory of self-sacrifice over human frailty—are undeniable testaments to His divine nature. Throughout this harrowing ordeal, the Redeemer was not devoid of support. Just as He was aided by an angel during His initial temptation by the devil in the wilderness, He received strength from a celestial messenger now as well.